Please Believe Me to Be
by finalproblem
Summary: Holmes departs, leaving behind a letter for his Watson that illuminates his feelings and final goodbye. -SLASH-


_To Watson._

Indeed, it is with much sorrow that I write this letter to you, but I feel that it is for the best; however, the following contents of this note are far too sensitive to be shown about, for they will be damaging for both of us, so I do plead that you do not reveal said contents to anyone but yourself – and I do apologize in advance, dear friend.

I am sure you are deeply inquiring several things as you begin to read this, mainly my whereabouts – and I assure you I am physically fine and fit, and that no criminal trouble has crossed my path.

In saying so, however, I must tell you a simple and harrowing fact that I'm sure will upset you, dear Watson, and again, I apologize – but I am afraid that you shall never see me again.

I have travelled away, very far, and please don't bother trying to track me down – you, of all people, should know that someone like myself would be rather difficult to find if I did not wish to be discovered.

However, that is not why I am here at my desk, writing this to you with trembling hands.

I must tell you a tale, Watson, of regret and sudden and horrible realization of what must come to pass – and, sadly, the latter occurred not less than three months ago.

I shall begin.

You have always been loyal to me, Watson, and for that, I thank you. Even in the time you spent with your wife, I knew where your heart truly belonged – back at our room, at Baker St., where I am assuming you now stand.

Even when you had thought me dead for some months, was it not with such great joy when I appeared before you, once again, that you passed out upon the floor?

Indeed, Watson, loyalty has always been your strongest point. Every case of mine was much more enjoyable when you came along to accompany me, as I hope you gathered from my obvious delight when you accepted any invitations I might have sent your way.

I have always been fond of you, ever since the day we met, even, and I still the remember the bewildered look on your face as you watched me perform my hemoglobin experiment, the very first time you laid your eyes upon me and, at the time, my over-excited mood. I am forever grateful to Stamford for introducing us, for I could not have found a better partner for my later cases in crime.

The years spent with you, dear Watson, were indeed the best, and I shall miss them dearly, but though it may seem absolutely ridiculous to you, I find my reason for departure necessary, yet boundlessly painful.

It had not even occurred to me how much I truly enjoyed you and your company until Mary arrived and took you away from me and away from the cases that so desperately wanted a companion, and not just myself. But I do not blame Mary for any of what has occurred, and I do hope, Watson, that you shall not either, for it is not her fault at all, but mine.

I missed you so terribly, those years you spent with Mary, and I know that I did occasionally call upon you for a few cases of mine, but your absence was too great, and I knew that I would never again see you living with me at 221B Baker Street.

But I began to slowly realize that I was not simply "missing" you. My longing to have you back with me was larger that any normal man's desire to have an old friend back, and it was indeed much more than that.

I know you understand what I mean, Watson, and I won't pretend that you do not.

I hate that what I must feel is, sadly, considered immoral in this day and age, and I know you must think me disgusting for even mentioning such things, when you have a perfectly beautiful wife who loves you dearly, but, Watson. So do I.

But waking, every day, in the familiar rooms where we spent such happy times together, discussing cases, musing over clients, or even eating breakfast – I cannot take it, knowing that I will never be able to face you and tell you what I want you to know. It is all too wrenching, seeing such memorable scenes. Every day, I wake – and you are not in the next room, sleeping soundly; you are in another room, with another person, living a different life.

I know you must hate me, dear fellow, but you had to know. Or I should have never been able to live with my horrid feelings bottled up inside.

So I tell you now, and I know that fleeing, running from you – it is all so childish and weak – but I hope that I can be spared, even if only just this once, for I am positive a situation like the one I face now will never occur again.

And so I have traveled away, to live somewhere else – somewhere with different rooms, different windows, and a different backdrop – one that will not constantly remind me of everything I can never have, but want so very badly.

But please, do not ever even think of dreaming that I would ever forget you, Watson. Forget you or our days spent together. It is all I shall have left.

And I can only imagine what your reaction to this sad note will be, though I hope it is not to judgmental. But, Watson – I am so sorry.

Please forgive me for what I have done, for what I have felt, and for what this letter shall do to you emotionally, whether what you feel is anger, or perhaps, I hope, even sadness.

I know you will miss me, but I am just not sure if you will want to see me again.

However, just a few more parting words.

I have left Baker Street without a word, and I have left everything just the way it was – save a few clothing items for myself, my pipes and chemistry sets, and a few other items I felt the need to bring along. You may take anything else you like, and discard the rest – it does not matter much to me. And when the dear landlady asks about me or where I have gone, you may tell her anything you wish – anything excluding the truth.

And so, I thank you for your years of unbending loyalty and service, your bright smile whenever you heard of my new cases, and the wonderful and eternal joy that you brought with you every step we took together.

And please believe me to be, my dearest Watson, very sincerely yours.

_Sherlock Holmes_

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A/N: This is the first slash-related thing that I've written, though it's not really much - just a quick letterfic that I wrote in about two days. I did so in an effort to get over the writer's block I've got on the other thing I'm writing, but I don't think it worked... ah, well. If you enjoyed this, please leave a review and let me know! I would really appreciate it. :)

_finalproblem_


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